We’re having our first feature in the U.K. press and I’m psyched.

Why?

Because I am a faux-Londoner and I want to prove we can be relevant ALL OVER THE WORLD.

I was born in Germany but grew up first in NYC and then in London. I spent 14 years there. Judging by my accent, you might think 14 minutes, not 14 years but I promise, I’m not exaggerating. Every time I go back I wax nostalgic. I remember the alleyways where I got “pissed” with my Adam and the Antz look-alike friends and the High Streets where I shop-lifted lip gloss and black nail polish. (You may be relieved to hear that while I had a bad attitude for a while, I did eventually come around!)

Of course, my kids will do none of this bad stuff, will they, because they will be under lock and key. Here, in the safe American suburbs… right? Please?

Anyway, I’m happy we’ll be heard across the pond. It’s for YOU that I expunged as many “moms” as I could from our text, replacing them with “mother” instead! It’s for my friends from University, and the it- girls from school in London, and the not-it girls too, and all those mums who don’t know me… but share the same joys and challenges.

This morning I open my e-mail and I have 1722 mails. 1721 of them are old ones being re-sent to me by Outlook which has, apparently, gone berzerk.

The bathroom above my kitchen is leaking.

My daughter had two teeth pulled and doesn’t want to go to school.

I have to drop off an assessment at a Special Ed program across town and I’m just about to go into a long meeting.

I have an appointment at the doctors to talk about ADHD with my daughter at 5:30 and I’m supposed to do carpool for my other daughter’s lacrosse practice at 6:00.

We’re going to be on TV again next week and I have roots. (I even feel guilty about writing that one down, it seems so vain in light of everything else). Speaking of hair, did I mention one child of mine had lice last week and I became intimately acquainted with the art of de-lousing? Now that was a learning experience.

I don’t know… I could actually go on some more if I didn’t feel like you are all already yawning and saying to yourselves, so what’s new?

On the way to school this morning, Greta (12) gives me a worried sideways glance as I veer into the bushes while making a turn because I’ve noticed that my iPhone is suddenly busy trying to download 1722  e-mails.

She says, “Mami?”

“Oops. Yes, honey?” I answer, looking up and swerving out of the way of a tree behind those bushes.

“Maybe YOU need a time out.” She’s not being cute. She’s being serious. She’s worried about my sanity.

I got tears in my eyes.